


Subtext

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, First Time, Kink Exploration, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Sex, Sub Athos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt of: 'Needy sub!Athos - my headcanon is that Athos is a very needy submissive and always has been, even with Milady. [...] Bonus points for someone expecting dominant Athos and being rather confused.'</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Porthos was torn. He had no wish to offer unwelcome advances that might either offend his friend, or, this being Athos, endanger his own life. On the other hand, Athos was currently plastered up against him and staring at his mouth. As gambles went, it seemed favourably weighted."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtext

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for brief mention of consensual coercion-play.

It was a night like any other, and Porthos had no presentiment of what was about to occur. Athos was well on his way to inebriated oblivion and as usual Porthos was the last man standing, having waved away the last two offers of a refill, mindful of his self-imposed responsibility to see Athos safely back to his lodgings.

Clearly having decided Porthos was more comfortable than the wooden bench back, Athos was currently leaning against his side, a warm weight that Porthos did not begrudge. On the contrary, he slid an arm about Athos' waist and settled him closer, giving a dangerous look at one of the cardinal's guards who looked like he might jeer. The man clearly thought better of his options and passed on without comment; Porthos grunted in satisfaction. 

When the last bottle was empty but for the dregs, and Athos deep enough in his cups not to protest, Porthos heaved him to his feet and manoeuvred them both out of the door. He pulled Athos' arm round his shoulders, took a robust grip on Athos' belt, and in this way guided them home without harm, his feet finding the now familiar route with barely any input from his brain, allowing him to concentrate on the appealing sensation of having Athos pressed up against him. 

Porthos, who had spent enough time amongst sailors and soldiers to be comfortable taking his pleasure with men where the opportunity arose, had long held something of a hidden desire for Athos. Apart from this, he admired him greatly, and as the years of their acquaintance went by had developed a deep affection for him, and thus would never have dreamed of pressing his advantage on the countless nights he'd escorted Athos home, insensible with drink. 

He did however, allow himself to consider that one of these nights it was not impossible that Athos himself might initiate something. To Porthos' reasonably certain knowledge he had taken no mistress in the time he had known him, and had it not been for his obvious and genuine heartache Porthos would have wondered more often whether this disinterest hid an inclination towards men.

Depositing Athos on his bed, Porthos dropped down next to him with a sigh, rotating his shoulders and neck to work out the kinks. Athos wasn't so drunk as to have been a dead weight, but he hadn't been helping all that much either.

"I'm sorry." Athos slurred, rolling over until his head was resting against Porthos' thigh. "You must grow so tired of me."

Porthos frowned down at him, resting a hand on his head, and when Athos didn't protest, burying his fingers self-indulgently in Athos' thick hair. 

"When I grow tired of you, you will know it," he retorted. "Firstly, because I will let you know in no uncertain terms."

"And secondly?" Athos asked, looking up at him with a troubled expression.

"And secondly because all the world will be exclaiming of the fact that hell has frozen over."

Athos worked this out in his wine-befuddled head and a smile spread slowly over his face, making Porthos laugh.

"It seems you have enough worries to dwell on my friend," Porthos murmured more softly. "You don't need to count me amongst them. I will be here for you as long as you need me."

During this speech, Porthos had started rubbing his fingers absent-mindedly against Athos' scalp, and suddenly realised what he was doing with a twinge of embarrassment. Athos didn't seem to mind though, and Porthos wondered if it was just wishful thinking that made it feel like Athos was pushing into his touch.

When Porthos withdrew his hand Athos made to sit up, lurching dizzily on the bed and grasping Porthos’ shoulder to steady himself. Porthos reached out to him automatically, his arm finding its way back round Athos' waist seemingly of its own accord. To Porthos' mild surprise, Athos still didn't protest, just leaned into him as naturally as if he belonged there. 

"I should probably go home," Porthos murmured, not feeling the least inclined to move now he had Athos practically in his arms. "Let you sleep it off."

"Mmmn." Athos gave a notional hum of agreement, but Porthos suspected he hadn't actually heard a word he'd said. Rather, Athos seemed preoccupied with staring at his mouth, a fascination that, had it come from a woman, would have left Porthos in no doubt as to the sentiment behind it. 

Porthos was torn. He had no wish to offer unwelcome advances that might either offend his friend, or, this being Athos, endanger his own life. On the other hand, Athos was currently plastered up against him and staring at his mouth. As gambles went, it seemed favourably weighted.

By way of experiment, Porthos licked his lips, slowly. A tiny frown furrowed Athos' brow, and Porthos watched him swallow, hard. Well then.

"Athos." He spoke the name quietly, drawing Athos' eyes with some difficulty up to meet his own, hoping Athos would see his own desire mirrored within and act accordingly.

Athos though, still said nothing, while apparently happy to gaze into his eyes with as much captivation as he'd directed at his mouth. Porthos sighed. Waiting for Athos to make the first move was clearly as pointless as waiting for Judgement Day, and he would have to take matters into his own hands.

He leaned closer, slow enough for Athos to divine his intent and move away if he so chose. To his satisfaction, Athos remained where he was, and other than the quietest of indrawn breaths showed no other surprise when Porthos finally kissed him.

The first kiss was brief, soft and enquiring. Athos returned the pressure of his lips without drama, and when they drew back a little from each other his sigh was of such contentment that Porthos lost no time in capturing his mouth once more.

This kiss was more heated, Athos yielding beneath the warmth of his lips, allowing Porthos full possession. Porthos licked into his mouth, greedy for the slide of Athos' tongue against his own, for the prickle of his beard and rapid, panting breath against his cheek. 

In his eagerness he caught Athos' lip sharply with his teeth, but Athos' moan of reaction was so far from protest that Porthos had stiffened in his breeches before he could control himself.

Porthos kissed him again, and again, harder each time, emboldened both by his own growing desire and Athos' obvious approval. They were clutching at each other by now, kisses messy and desperate, and Porthos was so hard it was driving him crazy. Deciding that he might as well chance his luck and trusting that Athos would make it known if he took things too far, Porthos pushed him down against the bed and covered him with his body, discovering that Athos was at least as aroused as he was and wondering why he should be surprised.

In all this time, Athos had not spoken a word to him, but by look and by touch had shown clearly enough his whole-hearted endorsement of this turn of events. 

Now, Porthos stretched out and kissed him again, endeavouring to draw the line of his erection tantalisingly against the matching bulge at Athos' groin. Athos' reaction was lost in the kiss, but he pressed eagerly into Porthos' body and before long they were rutting against each other as hard as they were kissing. 

"Athos," Porthos panted eventually, when they were down to their stockinged feet and shirtsleeves, both achingly aroused and equally and undeniably aware of the fact. 

"Tell me what you would have me do," he begged, kissing his way down the strip of exposed chest between the open lacings of Athos' shirt. "I am yours, and yours to command."

Athos flushed a little at this, and Porthos thought privately that he had never seen Athos blush before, and neither had he ever seen anything so charming.

"I - hesitate to name it," Athos muttered, looking down at his hands with unusual self-consciousness.

Porthos grinned. "I doubt you can shock me."

Athos conceded a faint smile, although the blood was still high in his cheeks as he held Porthos' gaze. "Then, will you fuck me?" he breathed.

Porthos covered his surprise with another toothy grin. Used to Athos commanding in all things, he'd anticipated the reverse, but this was by no means an unappealing prospect. 

"Willingly," he said immediately, feeling Athos relax against him with relief. 

They resumed their kisses, interspersed with relieving each other of the remainder of their clothing, until they were both naked but for Athos' locket and Porthos' earring and their hands had found their way instinctively to seek each other's pleasure without need for discussion.

Porthos, sensing that he needed to move things along sharpish if he wasn't going to embarrass himself all over Athos' hand and stomach before he could comply with his request, looked around the room for something he could use as lubricant.

"What is it?" Athos murmured, dipping his head to run his tongue up the dark scar line crossing Porthos' chest.

Porthos controlled himself with difficulty, and gave a hoarse laugh. "I need something to - ease things along?" he explained hopefully, then sighed when Athos looked blank. He was beginning to suspect that Athos had never done this before, which made it all the more imperative he should take things carefully.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, eyes finally lighting on a dish of soap on the washstand. Porthos crossed the room in a couple of paces and poured a little water from the jug into his hand, taking up the soap and feeling faintly ridiculous, conscious of Athos' eyes on him. 

Porthos turned back towards the bed, and mock glared at the look of amusement on Athos' face.

"You'll thank me for this in a minute," he declared, spreading a lather of suds on his cock and giving silent thanks that the water wasn't too cold. 

"Is that really necessary?" Athos smiled, opening his arms to Porthos' return.

"Depends." Porthos straddled him and ran a soapy hand up Athos' cock, making him squirm and sigh.

"On?" Athos persisted, wriggling away from Porthos' teasing fingers.

"Whether you want to be able to walk tomorrow," Porthos retorted. "If you'd prefer to be brutalised you should have said, I could have had you in the alley downstairs and kept my clothes on." 

He'd been joking, but Athos coloured a darker shade of red than before, and Porthos was on the verge of apologising when Athos leaned up and kissed him. 

"I have every confidence in you," Athos said quietly. "Tell me only what I should do, and you will have no argument." 

"Turn over then," Porthos said, allowing a rather brusque note enter his voice and noting with interest the way Athos moved immediately to comply. He felt a flush of pride that Athos should trust him with his body like this, immediately followed by a moment of doubt when he wondered if it was only that Athos was so drunk he'd have spread himself for anyone. 

But no, if that was the case he'd have done it before, and for others, and Porthos was by now confident this was an unusual occurrence in the extreme. Athos was not a trusting man by nature, and he couldn't imagine him granting anyone else such liberties. Well, possibly Aramis, Porthos realised, and determined to file that thought away for later contemplation with a smirk.

He repositioned himself, guiding Athos into a semi-kneeling crouch and using his soap-slick fingers to ease him open. Athos, after a single and quickly stifled groan remained silent; although pliant and willing beneath Porthos' hands.

When he simply couldn't wait any longer Porthos pushed inside him, slowly and carefully burying his entire length in the tight heat of Athos' body. The resistance he met convinced Porthos that Athos had never done this before and he restrained himself with difficulty from thrusting into him as hard as he wanted, wary of hurting him despite knowing perfectly well that Athos had a high pain threshold, a stoic personality and was on top of everything else so drunk he'd probably not have felt it if he'd fallen out of his window into the street.

"Porthos." It was his first utterance for a while, and Porthos immediately froze, worried Athos was in discomfort. 

"Yeah?"

Athos let his head hang down, resting on his forearms, and gave what might have been a breathless laugh. "I won't break."

A slow smile tugged at Porthos' lips, and he seized Athos more firmly about the hips. "We'll see."

Abandoning his hitherto cautious approach, Porthos started to fuck him in earnest, thrusting into Athos with increasingly rough movements and finally forcing wordless, involuntary noises out of him. Encouraged by this, Porthos redoubled his efforts, forgetting his initial resolve to be careful in favour of a violent enthusiasm that slammed the bed against the wall hard enough to mark the plaster.

All at once, he felt Athos clenching around him in spasm, an almost despairing groan the other indication that Athos had abruptly come all over the mattress.

Porthos grinned, and savoured the last few strokes as he let himself go, spilling into Athos' body in a glorious rush that left his whole body tingling with satisfaction.

Spent, he slumped down to the bed and took Athos into his arms. It was an instinctive gesture, and Athos returned his embrace with a grateful sigh. For a long moment they simply held each other, Athos resting against Porthos' chest, letting Porthos stroke his back with a gentle hand.

"Can I ask you something?" Porthos murmured, after a while.

Athos raised his head a little to look at him. "You can _ask_ ," he smiled warily.

"Was that your first time? With a man I mean?"

Athos relaxed again, and Porthos wondered what he'd imagined the question would be.

"Yes. Yes, it was." Athos caught his eye, and offered a more genuine smile with a hint of laughter. "Hopefully not my last?"

Porthos experienced a swell of affection for him, that Athos should want the arrangement to continue. "It was alright then?" he couldn’t help asking.

"It was more than alright," Athos confirmed, and kissed him. "Thank you." 

Porthos waved this away with an embarrassed hand. "Must say you took me by surprise a bit," he said to cover the sudden unreasonable urge to declare his undying devotion. 

"How so?"

Porthos shrugged. "Thought you'd have wanted - you know. To be in charge, as it were."

Athos frowned. "Would you have rather that?" he asked solicitously, concerned that he'd put his own needs above those of his friend.

"No!" Porthos protested, then modified his tone with a laugh, "I mean - I'm comfortable with either role. I just said it was a surprise, not an unpleasant one." He rolled over and pinned Athos down against the bed, kissing him long and deeply. He felt he was beginning to get a handle on what Athos liked, and was entirely willing to oblige.

They fell asleep curled together in the small bed, Porthos with his arm securely tucked round Athos' waist, one foot draped over his at the ankle. 

\--

Athos woke the next morning with sunlight in his face and winced as he tried to bury his face in the pillow. There was a familiar throbbing in his head from the drink, and a less familiar ache in the rest of his body from - he opened his eyes again in the moment of surprised recollection and then swore as he was promptly blinded by the sun.

The light cut off abruptly and he blinked the after-images away to make out Porthos, fully dressed, pulling the tatty curtain across the window.

Athos squinted at him for a second, then fell back against the pillow with a groan. "Morning."

"Morning." Porthos relaxed a little. He'd woken some time before, and discovering Athos was still deeply asleep had lost his nerve regarding staying in the bed with him, but hadn't like to leave completely. Nevertheless, he'd been nervous about what Athos might say upon waking, and of the potentially disastrous conversations that might have ensued, he'd take Athos' customary grumpy morning indifference over most of them.

Athos rolled out of bed and started to dress. Porthos, not quite sure where to look, leaned by the window and watched the street below through the gap in the curtain. 

"Porthos." He looked round to find Athos clothed and looking at least marginally more awake. 

"I trust you will say nothing of what happened last night?" Athos said crisply.

Porthos' face clouded a little, but he nodded brusquely. "Of course not. You have my word." Outside, the church clock chimed the hour and Porthos looked up. "We're going to be late." He made for the door, abruptly glad of a chance to escape.

Athos though, seized his arm roughly, making him look round. "Now what?"

Athos hesitated. He'd seen the hurt in Porthos' eyes and realised his words had been misinterpreted, but wasn’t sure how to put it right.

"I just meant - say nothing to anyone else," he said finally. "I didn’t mean I wanted to forget it."

"Oh." Porthos considered this, then gave him a newly hopeful look, and Athos smiled.

"On the contrary." 

They left together, and the day's duty passed without incident, at least if you counted three skirmishes with the Cardinal's red guards as normal background levels of tedium.

The last of these blossomed into an actual duel with, Porthos was amused to note, the guard who'd laughed at Athos the night before. He wasn't entirely sure whether Athos registered this fact, but given the vigour that Athos sent him packing with, bleeding and limping away down the street, it was entirely possible.

Porthos and Aramis had spent the duration of this duel lounging at the side of the street and supplying unhelpful suggestions to Athos, who ignored them completely. Entirely confident in Athos' ability to hold his own, they were nonetheless keeping a surreptitious eye on the other guards, in case they should take it into their heads to render assistance.

An enraged Athos was however something the entire city recognised as to be avoided and they sensibly kept their distance until the whole thing was over. Athos strode back to his friends, glowering both at the fact he'd been forced to break a sweat and the pestilential existence of red guards in the first place.

Porthos clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. He'd enjoyed the spectacle of Athos beating the shit out of his opponent entirely too much, and spent half of it hoping Aramis didn’t notice the state of his groin. Athos caught his eye and gave him the ghost of a private smile before looking away. 

As an impartial observer might have felt it had been Athos' remarks that afternoon that provoked the duel in the first place, Porthos hoped he didn’t feel he had anything to prove after the last night's events. As far as he was concerned, Athos was their leader, and if he chose to relinquish that in the bedroom it had no bearing on anything else.

Porthos sighed. There were probably things that should be said between them, but since neither man was naturally given to discussion of the finer emotions, it was unlikely to happen. 

"You'd be better off screwing Aramis," Porthos muttered, staring at Athos' back as he walked ahead of them. "At least he'd tell you how he felt. What do you want me for?"

"What was that?" 

Porthos jumped, not having realised how close Aramis was. "Nothing." 

"Everything alright?" Aramis looked at him shrewdly. "You've been very quiet today. Not like you."

Porthos grunted. Generally, 'tell no-one' applied to anyone who wasn't the three of them, but in this case he wasn't sure Athos would appreciate Aramis knowing what had transpired, even without the details. 

"Lot on my mind," he muttered vaguely. 

Aramis put an arm round his shoulders. "Well, you know where we are," he said cheerfully. "And in the meantime, might I suggest a drink?"

The three retired to the nearest inn, and after a couple of bottles had been sunk, Aramis took his leave, claiming a prior appointment  
with his tailor that Athos and Porthos knew perfectly well meant his tailor's niece.

"This tailor - very nimble fingers, so I've heard," Athos said, straightfaced.

Porthos nodded. "And doesn't mind the odd little prick, which is lucky."

"Gentlemen, I hate you both." Aramis grinned, flourished his hat at them, and left.

Alone together, Athos and Porthos exchanged a glance, staring quickly back at the table and its empty vessels.

"We should get another," Athos said.

"Or - " Porthos took a deep breath. "We could - go back to my lodgings?"

There was a pause, while Athos considered his response to this not terribly veiled proposition.

"I think - I might need to be a little drunker," he ventured, then winced as Porthos gave a loud snort.

"Thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that," Athos sighed, smile twitching at his lips as he registered Porthos was laughing. 

"What did you mean then?" Porthos let his hand stray under the table to caress the top of Athos' leg.

"I - " Athos swallowed painfully, having just banged his knee in surprise. "I just don't find it - terribly easy. Asking for what I want," he confessed in a low voice, picking up his empty beaker for the third time in the hope that more wine might have magically appeared in it.

Porthos nodded slowly, giving the outward appearance of a man who was deep in thought, all the while sliding his hand further over until it dipped between Athos' thighs. 

"Then perhaps you should just show me," Porthos said quietly. "And trust that whatever it is, I'm extremely unlikely to refuse you."

Athos shifted in his seat, thoroughly distracted by the hand that was by now rubbing slowly across his crotch, and the effect it was having on him.

"Oh very well." Athos conceded finally, realising that if he didn't get them out of there Porthos was entirely capable of continuing with his under-table explorations with a blithe disregard for being caught.

Porthos practically dragged him from the booth and arm in arm they walked the short distance to Porthos' lodgings. He kept a couple of rooms in a house not far distant from Athos', although they were rather more comfortable. Where Athos' furnishings were spartan and his floor frequently in need of sweeping, Porthos, who'd started out with nothing, appreciated the few nice things he'd managed to accumulate and looked after them accordingly.

In deference to Athos' slight air of anxiety Porthos poured them both a large drink, then in deference to his own impatience, made Athos join him on the bed rather than letting him settle in a chair. He was learning that in certain circumstances Athos would acquiesce to things with a pliant obedience he'd never have imagined, and was intrigued to explore this to its full extent.

Porthos put an arm round him and pulled Athos comfortably to his side. After a moment's hesitation, Athos slid his own arm around Porthos' waist, and relaxed against him with a sigh, drinking deeply from his glass.

"Can you tell me what you want?" Porthos murmured. "Or should I just experiment until you punch me?" he added, and was gratified to feel Athos give a silent laugh.

Athos looked at him consideringly, although still with a hesitant reserve and Porthos raised his eyebrows. "Or, I could guess?" he offered, waving his glass about recklessly.

Athos smiled, grateful for Porthos' inclination to keep things light. "And what would you guess?"

Porthos put down his drink, then moved Athos' away as well, and took both his hands in his. "I would guess - that you'd like to be fucked?" he hazarded, voice low and suddenly serious.

"By you, anyway," Athos conceded with a slight smile.

Porthos grinned. "And," he continued, "not just fucked." He paused, and Athos looked up at him, a question and a veiled hope in his eyes.

"Taken," Porthos breathed, leaning closer so Athos could hear him. "Used. Filled." He hesitated, taking in Athos' laboured breathing and the dark eyes fixed on him, and remembering Athos' reaction the previous night when he'd mentioned brutalising him, continued, "Degraded. Violated. _Forced_." This last was breathed barely aloud, but Athos' eyes fluttered half closed and his hand gripped Porthos' in a sudden spasm.

Porthos kissed him then, and Athos kissed back with such a passion that it made Porthos hard all over again. 

When they broke apart, Athos let his forehead droop to Porthos' shoulder in sudden shame. "What must you think of me," he muttered.

Porthos frowned. "It's all good," he promised. "With someone you trust. Do you trust me, Athos?"

"With my life," Athos nodded, and Porthos cupped his face, kissing him again. 

"Then let me please you," he begged fiercely. "In any and every way you want. And promise me that you will not feel shame for a single second of it."

Athos looked at him with something like wonder. "I promise," he mouthed, and Porthos kissed him again with a gentleness that belied his rising lust.

Sitting up, Porthos reflected that soft kisses and declarations were all very well, but it wasn't getting either of them fucked and they did appear to have at least established that was what they both wanted. He cleared his throat and fixed Athos with a sterner look.

"You ever had a man in your mouth?" he asked gruffly.

Athos suppressed a smile. "No. Can't say I have."

"About time we fixed that then. Get on your knees." Porthos stood up and glared down at Athos who was still sitting there with his mouth slightly open. "I said, on your knees!"

Athos slid immediately to the rug and Porthos breathed a silent sigh of relief that he'd apparently judged it right. He started to unfasten his trousers, then stopped. 

"No. You do it," he instructed.

Athos reached up without hesitation and continued where Porthos had left off, gradually exposing his rigid cock and running his hand up its length with visible pleasure.

"Suck it then," Porthos told him, before adding for good measure "and if you're no good you'll do it again 'til you get it right."

Athos glanced up with a wry look that reminded Porthos that while he might enjoy being dominated in the bedroom, he was still Athos and therefore not entirely to be fucked with. Porthos grinned down at him unrepentantly and Athos shook his head in amusement before applying himself to the task at hand.

The warm, wet touch of Athos' mouth enveloping the head of his cock made Porthos groan approval, and he fisted a hand in Athos' hair, tugging sharply. Athos took him deeper, before pulling back with a cough. 

Licking his lips, he started again, more circumspect but just as eager, and for now Porthos let him find his own way, enjoying both the sensations and the dizzying knowledge that it was Athos producing them, Athos who was on his knees for him, Athos who was sucking him, licking him, and occasionally choking around him. 

When they'd established both a comfortable depth for Athos to manage and a rhythm that allowed him to breathe, Porthos took back control and started thrusting harder into his mouth. Passive now, one of Porthos' hands gripping his chin and the other his hair, Athos let his mouth be used and fucked.

Porthos felt his climax building and shoved harder and faster, letting the friction of Athos' lips around his cock help get him off. He came with a loud groan, spurting thickly into Athos' mouth.

Having deliberately held Athos' mouth shut until he swallowed, Porthos grinned at him, collapsing sideways onto the bed. He held his hand out for Athos to join him, and kissed his messy lips with enthusiasm.

"Your turn I suppose," Porthos murmured, feeling kindly disposed to the whole world and reaching out, willing enough to return the favour.

Athos grabbed his wrist, but not before Porthos had discovered that the material covering Athos' groin was damp and sticky.

"I, er. May have already had my turn," Athos muttered sheepishly. 

Porthos stared at him for a second, then pulled Athos roughly into his arms. He'd been worried for a moment back there that he'd gone too far, but to discover that Athos had found it enjoyable enough to come without being touched was both a relief and a lesson, to trust that what Athos said he wanted, he genuinely did.

Athos laughed faintly and extricated himself from Porthos' rather crushing embrace. They smiled at each other, gradually relaxing as they accepted that the other was still okay with what they were doing, now that they'd started doing it.

"Well." Porthos kissed him and smirked. "I imagine that's quite uncomfortable. You should probably take them off."

"You want me to stay, then?" Athos said, the faintest question in his voice.

"Oh yes." Porthos grinned. "I'm nowhere near finished with you yet."

\--


End file.
